Long Auger Poems
Long Auger Poems. Below are the most popular long Auger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Auger poems by poem length and keyword.
My post-mortem may bear the stroke of your hand, in your lap,
On your knees with a single tear so priceless
That may fall on my cold cheek with power to revive, resurrect.
But not this time, not this time.
My virility dissipated, my strength evaporated, my hope diminished
My pain increased, my sadness swelled, my dying delighted.
*
It would be no accident for the entire firmament to welcome the marble statue
Off to the higher ground so sterile and so heavenly boring,
The penurious acceptance committee may not be human but would piss me off!
Well, as Carrickfergus quietly spells out its notes, may I be burned!? –
I support the idea of still being able to choose,
Just to avoid the heavens being shocked by my St Louis Blues.
Oh, isn’t it such a fascist oppression when one is wounded so deeply
That starts circling in the whirlpool of emotional punishment
And yet as an indigent vagrant almost obsequious cannot die nor live without it.
*
What the ledger of life hides no incarnation can reveal!
At the time of my rite of passage I have reached the nirvana of destruction,
No tuxedo, thank you, just a bullet-proof vest.
Walking through a quiet field of death in an early April
Absorbing the consequence of sparagmos like an icicle above my vertex
It dangled with hesitation while being depicted in the singing of blackbirds.
For others it was the most precious commodity found in that dump.
And they came, chump after chump.
The zircon in my eye sharpened while looking through the scope
Repeating the drill again, and again, downing it in a oner
The paragon of excellence that could not be surpassed,
How foolish, and how inhumanely sad!
Incredible! When one thinks of it the thoughts are being turned into an auger!
Blame me for the executions as I go through sepia - the auger through my heart,
Blame me for daring to bring it back from the event horizon
Being on the inside of it and escaping the pull
Give me a chance to embrace my life and play it under new rules,
In the jungle of the Congo like Tarzan, this time – king of fools!
I never wanted an ornament of honour, as there was no honour in it.
Give the golden brooch to the old lady witch at the sooty ‘Meyhane’!
Just sail on under ‘the bridge over troubled water’- and keep sane.
(to be continued...)
By Sashi. Prabhu(zeauoxian) 1/3/2012.
Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward,
From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared.
From the vertical column sans a crown of leaves of rotted dead wood,
Once, which was in its own right a magnificent coconut tree where it stood.
Freshness, splendor, Vitality and flexibility of a live tree all depleted and gone,
T’was a pertinent choice for the woodpecker mates to build a home foregone.
Abundantly birdies flock, Pigeons, robins, mynahs, hornbills, cranes and parrots,
On the evergreen nearby tamarind tree, but the woodpeckers my eyes ferrets.
From that eventful day my eyes they set upon,
Their wood pecking bills would on the bark sculpt and impinge on.
A homely hole to drill,
Their head moving rhythmically and looks like a cap with red frill.
Twenty five days back they first arrived I lucidly recollect,
Ten days, a pair of hatched altricial chicks, mates from adversaries’ have to protect.
One morn had me glancing to the oval cavital hole on the bark,
And feasted my eyes on feeding chicks being readied, their lives to embark.
Blissful and content , I recollect now I sat a bit longer to observe and discern,
Glorious hues, auger bill, cap with red frills, of the peckers as they take their unambiguous turns.
To zip across like beige, buttery yellow plumaged darts across the lush foliage all green,
Within, watchable bounds to fetch, insects, worms and saps as nutriment routine.
The chicks I saw they peek out of the shielded barky holes with awe,
Strength it seems to me have filled their wings bill and sharpened claw.
Now I wonder if I can listen to the joyous feminine “chrr”
and the shrill masculine “kwirr”.
As the young chick in the hole frolicking, giving it a try to fly,
Away in the wide world after saying a good bye onto the sky very high…………
Now the mates without emotions, kerfuffle and ado,
To each other, their home and their prying neighbour me have bid “adieu”.
Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward,
From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared
Brutus Iulius Trois page 02
Where Trojans are there will be Troy
In Hesperia the elder cousins the new Dardanoi
the sons of Silvanus Dardanus shall inherit
and Lavinia's bloodline shall dwindle down
caught by a curse not even Anna Perenna can protect
as the very last drops are given to wolves
Thus purified the Dardanoi become a great nation
As for the house of Ascanius and the true Trojans
Two bright stars that flame and fall
Troy is lost, Trojans are lost
a matricide, a patricide an orphan child
shall escape his curse and rescue Creusa
who cries all alone in Troy's ruins
Where Trojans are there will be Troy
Ascanius did not weep or cry in anger
Ascanius did not try to stop what was to come
doing such things had never helped his father Aeneas
Ascanius placed his faith in older prophecies made
and his trust in the protection of grandmother Venus
with peaceful prayers sent he pleas to the Parcae
Nona spin your finest threads for my son.
Decima give him a full cup of life leave him not wanting
Morta keep your knife idle until after my time.
Ascanius paid the Auger in silver coin
one eyed Merlinius bowed and left
To his soldiers Ascanius said slay me this soothsayer
but the mage Merlinius staged his own suicide
drinking a draft of false death
disappearing some said into the west
Silent stayed Ascanius, keeping secret his son's fate
In time Silvanus Trois inherited his fathers crown
and wedded Julia Dardanus his close cousin
tying the Trojan grafts tighter to their newly Latin roots.
Julia Dardanus died in birthing a beautiful son
she breathed her last even as he breathed his first.
In sorrow Silvanus lifted his son aloft to show the courtiers
as he hefted the babe, he named his heavy burden Brutus.
In true Trojan fashion Ascanius had raised Silvanus his son
In such fashion Silvanus in turn raised Brutus Iulius Trois
The summer has long since faded
The sky seems eternally grey,
A white carpet laid down on the landscape clearing the green grass away.
The house is chilly this morning,
Out to the woodbox I go
When suddenly I realize,
The Mercury's hit forty below!
Trees have started to splinter,
cracking like lightning in the air
And if you've never heard it,
It's sure to give you a scare!
Like gunshots in a war zone
they crack and explode on key,
and leave shards of broken and shattered wood
Where once there was a tree.
The lakes have now frozen over,
my swimming hole now sports an ice hut,
cause the fishing just got a lot better,
Through the 8 inch auger hole that I've cut.
I can see the fish swimming beneath me,
I try tempting him with my bait;
as he swims to the hook to take a quick look,
One jerk, and I've sealed his fate.
He fights and he bites and he dances,
trying to shake the hook with all of his might
but I've set it so well, it's easy to tell
That It's all over except for the fight.
Supper time is nearing, my fresh trout is on to eat,
The woodstoves working overtime,
Warming up my feet.
After dinner a warm bath and a movie,
A few more inches of snow has amassed,
but on a little lighter note,
One more day of winter's now passed.
Winter's not as bad as it seems.
Some look at it with a vile detest.
In the north we grin and bear it,
In my stories I share it,
and of each day we just make the best…
Climber
by Odin Roark
Reality readied its chance
Ascent of an alpine face
Traversing ice and cold
Challenging steel axe and rope
Such was the pulsating vibration
Facing another dawn
That day
Blade and ice danced slow motion
Penetrating deep into resistance
Echoing through layered centuries
Awakening nature to its presence
Breath became reserved
High altitude remained merciless
Snow-blind eyes squinted thankfully
As yards became feet
Became inches
Became respect for the unknown
Frozen feet
Cinched tight inside
Defiant crampons
Numbly impelled their serrated spikes
The blue iced chorus groaned displeasure
Reminding auger-encroachment
Frozen time was forever resilient
Destiny prevailed
Mortality hung suspended
As will over apathy
Courage over defeat
Found fear had been conquered
Life’s architecture
Like da Vinci ’s Vitruvian Man
Became a frozen tapestry
Life’s proportions
Past
Future
Present
Coalesced
Transformed
Became…
Some might say such a tale
Mere envisages
Penned into a journal
To bide some time
This night however…
The mountain-wall’s next attempt
Huddled in a tent weathering sub-zero temperatures
Sipped tea from his father’s battered cup
A legacy found long ago
Floating atop glacial runoff
Through the night
Ink continued flowing
Tin cup foreshadowing remained warm
First light neared
Sure few ones know where the world's going to stand on
history speaks restless in time civilization after civilization
many theories are taught till today through education
anarchy is reaped there with contrary and contradiction
good people are always trying to feed better conception
but their alacrity does not auger well fully in any condition
so often they suffer mentally from humanity's hypertension
hanging uncountable differences of castes creeds and religions
games of suckers of political power, dominating will of many nations
tuning uncompromising attitude, intolerance, nepotism's maturation
few trying to make the life of this world long through international organizations
restricting harmful uses of desterus weapons by the official proclamation
knowledge of history may help if studied with true scientific visions
if all the nations do not come to think in common platform's combination
then surely one day this world will face dangerous destruction
I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.
And so began my tenure working maintenance
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance.
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance.
A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.
I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.
There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.
While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade,
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.
Readings on the rise i beleive..In twentytwenty
Five.' More demand for books; reads well to
Me.' May it auger well for society.' I guess Richatd Vobes, will be heartened by this vibe
Long may, all collateral fallout, continue to
Thrive..Let Bibles be bought, to be studied at
Length, that Nations be enriched by their
Diverse appeal to each humans sense.' May
Each message be taken deep.' May they light
Every day.' And refresh each students sleep.'
May admonishnent and encouragement build
A new body of Christ.' Where Gods spell and
His promises, triumph over vice.' Let minds
And bodys live in His One True Love.' As we
Await each challenge.' He observes from near
And above.' Now is the moment.!!! There are
Many to save.' Those who have been brought
To your shores.' Who for the Truth also crave
I see it not as an invasion, yet a harvest to
Reap..May the Word go out to them.' May they
Take it in deep.' They have been brought from
The four corners of the globe.' Be awake and
See.. Now go forth.' And be busy.' God will bring Victory.!!!
Septuagenarian Serenade
By Sy Roth
It wants to warble a fine tune
It wants to fill the night with a pleasing glissando
Rising and sliding into joyful jig
Instead, the brittle vocal chords are ill-defined wolves
Howling at a laughing moon, a dismal lunarscape
Ripe with lingering pains engraved in time
A dusty bin filled with some dismal memories
Working hard to shake out the motes that were in their eyes
Tearful threnody of movement closer to the door.
It wants so desperately to dance that two-step
A pas de deux of clever invention
But the hip sings a screechy declaration
Voids the temptress to ignore the mirrors
That auger the realities of time
Begs for the release of the agents of calamity
Where upturned carpets, lost spectacles
Dings on the fenders of vehicles long past
And missed names and familiar faces fade.
The song will have to remain in the head
Whirling from broken synapse to broken synapse
And the eyes will have to tell them the story of desire.
Augur Auger
David J Walker
It was all in the spelling
Actually
An e here or a u there
And the foreshadowing’s
Changed in strange
Rearrangements
After all, as a young augur
What was I to the grain
Augered into the silo
And yet if a Crow cawed
From a barbed wire fence
My uncle would turn the pickup
Around
And head for town
Discussing the meaning in
A mid-morning
coffee shop séance
Where everyone partook of the
Smoke and the black liquid
Was it rain or death foretold
in the beak of the blackbird
Everyone had their own opinion
One farmer left saying
He was a Christian
And would have no part in
The dark discussion
He would see them in
Church on Sunday
And just as augured
Everyone went back
To his own filed
Gaging a yield in the
Formation of clouds